Drabbles by the Dozen
by wazlib88
Summary: Twelve snapshots of Ron and Hermione's life together, written based on prompts from readers. "S'pose we've made it, haven't we?" Ron remarked. "After thirty years?" Hermione's eyes twinkled, shining even in the poor excuse for lighting in the hallway of the hospital. "Oh, no, darling, I intend to get another fifty out of you yet."


A/N: So I was stuck on my novel, and I asked tumblr for drabble prompts. The response was enthusiastic, to say the least. Some of these are a little bit off of my head canon/the FAL/POE universe I usually write in, but I figured you all might enjoy them nonetheless! I've arranged them in something resembling chronological order for clarity's sake, and I'll put the prompt in bold before each section. Thanks for reading. :)

Disclaimer: Are we still doing these?

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**Anonymous asked: "Ron comes home and Hermione is gone and nowhere to be found (please don't make this a fic where he just finds her at Harry and Ginny's or something, preferably angst)** **thank youuuu"**

It was nearly midnight, Ron had just got off after a fourteen hour shift, Hermione was nowhere to be found, and it was entirely his fault. So really, when he tallied up his wins and his losses for the day, he had achieved the impossible - he was doing worse than the bloody Cannons.

He couldn't even remember what they'd fought about. Not that it mattered, anyway. All that mattered was that she wasn't there, he didn't know where she'd gone, and all he wanted to do was bury his face in her beautifully wild hair and fall asleep with her heart beating against his chest, in time with his own.

He wasn't sure when he'd become so attached to her. He supposed it was around the time he turned thirteen. There wasn't life without her, as melodramatic as it sounded. Not the life he was supposed to have, anyway. Well, more accurately, the life he wasn't supposed to have and didn't deserve but had somehow been lucky enough to be living anyway.

So naturally, he'd taken that luck and gone and fucked it up again. Brilliant.

It was funny how much emptier their flat could seem when she wasn't in it. It was _her_ flat; it had been, anyway. Everything in it was, in essence, _her,_ from the simple throw pillows on the sofa to the stacks of books in each corner to the little muggle figurines her parents had given her on her fifteenth birthday. Yet she was the one who had left. That was how blinded by anger she had been - so much so that she'd been willing to put aside her pride in her own _home_ to get away from him. It didn't matter that he didn't know where she had gone, because she had made it clear she didn't want to be found.

It was a firewhiskey and a half later that he realized she'd have to come round sometime soon. She'd have to give back the ring, wouldn't she? It'd be over before they'd even started planning, and all because he'd snapped over…what had it been, even? He wished he could remember.

He'd barely finished the second bottle when the tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes. He swiped at them with vigor, but he only wound up smacking himself in the eye. Figured.

He woke up lying haphazardly on the sofa after about four hours of sleep. He was sporting a pounding headache, though that was nothing compared to the cold emptiness threatening to overcome his very soul. He sent an owl to the office; there was no way he could make it through another shift. He could barely focus on fixing something resembling breakfast.

Hermione was supposed to have gone shopping the evening before. Maybe she had, wherever she'd gone. Ignoring the pressure building at his temples, he poured himself another drink. Tea wasn't going to do today.

It was just after one o'clock when a tentative knock came at the door. He ignored it, until he heard the voice coming through the door.

"Please, Ron…"

He'd recognize her voice anywhere, and it was shaking. Her eyes were just as red as his when he opened the door to let her in. He couldn't take his eyes off her; he didn't know how much longer he'd be afforded the privilege.

"I was at Luna's," she said softly, breaking the silence.

"Well, you can take the flat," he replied unceremoniously as she took a seat on the sofa, wringing her hands anxiously. "It's yours. I can…I can go somewhere else, I dunno." His words caused her to snap her head up, eyes wide.

"You…you want to move out?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Only because you want me to," he snapped, throwing himself into the armchair across from her. "I'm…I'm sorry, okay? And you know I love you, and if you ever…if you ever want to talk to me again-"

He broke off immediately when Hermione burst into tears, burying her head in her hands and sobbing in earnest. "I'm…I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, no, it's me…I'm the one…" he trailed off, batting his hands noncommittally. When she only cried harder, he crossed the room to sit next to her on the sofa and wrap a tentative arm around her shoulders. She curled into his body, and he felt the spark of hope spread throughout his chest. Her engagement ring was still on the third finger of her left hand.

"Do…I understand if you…did…" Her voice was barely audible as she buried her face against his chest. "I love you, too," she said, finally. "I…I know you might want to call it off, but I…I'm so sorry, Ron!"

"I thought_ you_ wanted to call it off!" Ron exclaimed, drawing back and trying to get her to look at him. "After you left…"

"You told me to leave!" Hermione shrieked. "I thought - I thought…"

"No I didn't!" Ron argued. "I…I don't even remember what happened!"

"Neither do I!" Hermione replied, her voice squeaking. "I..oh, Ron, what _happened_?"

"Hell if I know," he groaned, leaning back against the sofa cushions and rubbing his face vigorously. If only his head would stop pounding…

"Why don't we remember?" Hermione whispered, leaning softly against his shoulder. "We almost called off our _wedding_, Ron, and neither one of us…I mean, it's all a blur."

"We hadn't been drinking, had we?"

"No," Hermione said slowly. "We'll have to talk about this with the premarital counselor, that's it. Clearly there's something we're suppressing, hidden issues-"

"I don't…_oh,"_ Ron trailed off, the light of realization suddenly switching on in some corner of his weary brain. "Oh, I'm gonna have his bloody head."

He leapt off the sofa and rushed, as fast as his exhausted body would take him, to their bedroom. She trailed a few feet after him, biting her lip as she watched him rummage through the various papers and boxes on his bedside table.

"Ah-ha!" he cried triumphantly, wielding a small, purple box bearing the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes logo. "Oh, George is going to _get it-"_

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Remember that product George asked us to test for him last week? Y'know, the one that was supposed to…well, you know, with the fantasies," he said meaningfully.

"Yes," Hermione replied tersely. "I _still _can't believe you volunteered us, but it was a dud anyway. What's that got to do with anything?"

"It wasn't a dud," Ron said, waving his wand over the instruction manual and handing it to her. "Well, it was, but in a different way than we thought. Oh, hell, he owes us _big _time. I can't believe he gave us this one. He must've wanted to catch us off guard."

Hermione frowned as she read the instructions on the parchment. "It says here it's supposed to be taken seven days before you want the experience," she said, "so I suppose that explains the late onset. But why would we have fought?"

"Keep reading," Ron remarked darkly. "It's not your individualized fantasy, it's one very…_specific_ fantasy, and it's got nothing to do with us."

"Oh…_oh." _Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Seriously?"

"Some people get off on that." Ron shrugged. "The anger, the rough make-up sex…only we didn't get to the second part. So it puts you into a stupor, heightens everyone's emotions, makes you say things you don't mean -then the lust comes in."

"But why would…that's _illegal_, isn't it?" Hermione sputtered. "That's manipulating our minds!"

"He checked; it's okay if both people know what they're getting into," Ron explained, "but that's only if they actually bloody _work_. And of course we didn't know, so I'm going to have his head for this."

"Why would he think we-" Hermione's face was growing progressively deeper red as the moments went on. "What, because of how we were in school? Does he honestly think we haven't got _past_ all that? We almost…we got in a huge fight over _nothing_!"

"I'm headed over there now," Ron growled. "I'm going to have his head. _Nobody_ comes between me and you, unintentionally or otherwise."

"No," Hermione stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm before rising to her tiptoes to kiss him soundly. "No, you're not, because I'm going to get there first."

Furious though he was with George, Ron couldn't help but grin as he followed Hermione to the fireplace. His fiancée was a force of nature, and he was the luckiest sod on earth.

**Anonymous asked: "Hermione waits up late for ron to return from an auror mission :)"**

The clock struck midnight, and Ron was officially late.

He didn't usually go on missions like these. As a member of the domestic affairs unit of the Auror Department, his areas of expertise were raids and security operations. But one of the women in the foreign affairs unit was ill, and Ron had volunteered to step in for a three-day operation in France. He hadn't been allowed to tell Hermione what his mission was, only when he was expected home.

"Don't worry about me, love," he'd told her when he'd left on Wednesday morning. "I'm highly skilled and trained, you know."

"I know," Hermione had replied, but that hadn't stopped her from messing with the clasp on his robes another time to keep him with her as long as possible.

And now, as the minutes ticked by and took her further and further from his expected return at midnight, Hermione couldn't help but wish her husband had chosen to pursue a safer occupation.

It was horribly selfish thought, of course. Ron wouldn't have been happy drowning in paperwork, but even so, he was already looking for opportunities to move up so that he might be able to have more regular hours, preferably working as a trainer. And if he was willing to do it all for the family they were about to start, then she would have to be willing to spend the occasional night wrapped tightly in his robe, staring at the clock and waiting for him to appear healthy and whole once again.

As the clock struck one, her eyes had become heavy, but her heart was beating too fast to sleep. The less selfish part of her, but the part that liked to imagine how things _could_ have been, wished that she had taken up the offer to join the Auror Department after the war, because at least if she was with him, she could try to keep him safe.

But that wouldn't have made her happy, to see all the horrors that had haunted her teenage years replayed before her very eyes day in and day out. Those things were far too real as they dwelt in her memory, and how Harry and Ron could continually come face to face with the reality of it all, she would never understand. Ron had told her, once, that they _needed_ to do it, that they wouldn't be able to rest without doing as much as they could to keep her and Ginny and the others safe.

So in the end, the hardships, the worry, even the occasional loneliness were what it took for them to be happy. An avid reader though she was, Hermione did not appreciate the irony.

But she didn't have a choice, because it had already been made long ago. And when he appeared in the fireplace at two-thirty, a thin cut beneath his right eye but otherwise unscathed, and wrapped her into the warmth of his strong embrace, she knew that she had made the right one.

**Anonymous asked: "Prompt idea: Ron gets hurt on a mission and Hermione goes to St. Mungo's" **

"Where is he?"

Harry looked up calmly from his seat, raising his eyebrows only slightly at Hermione's wild expression. "Hello, Hermione. Having a good day?"

The worry in her eyes transformed to anger almost immediately. "Can I assume he's alright, then?" she snapped, dropping into the seat across from him with a huff.

"Oh, he'll be just fine," Harry assured her with a smirk.

Hermione's frown deepened as she spoke in her most menacing voice, "You will tell me what happened to my husband this instant, Harry Potter, or I swear, I will make battles with Voldemort look like child's play."

It was only because he believed her that Harry replied hastily, "Look, it's not…I mean, I didn't put it in the letter because it's…well…he'll want to tell you himself, you know? He'll want to-" And then he broke off, dissolving into uncontrollable laughter.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "If someone doesn't tell me what's going on in the next-"

"Ask him yourself!" Harry choked out between sniggers, gesturing behind her. Hermione spun around to see a very disgruntled Ron, walking with his shoulders hunched but otherwise looking as well as he always did. She rushed over to hug him, and he returned her embrace without reluctance, though the frown didn't leave his face.

"You alright, then?" Harry was still smirking, and Ron looked ready to smack him.

"If you breathe a word of this to _anybody-_"

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Hermione interjected, stepping away from Ron and crossing her arms, shifting her gaze from her husband to their best friend and back.

"Hermione," Ron mumbled, glancing around the mostly empty hallway surreptitiously, "it's a bit…"

"Mortifying?" Harry supplied helpfully while Ron glared at him.

"Can we talk about it at home?" Ron pleaded.

Hermione was about to oblige when Harry, unable to keep it in any longer, blurted, "The bloke was a clown!"

"What?" Hermione shook her head, bemused. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"A children's entertainer. That was his day job," Ron muttered reluctantly. "So he used some…well, he knew some creative charms."

"And what did he do to you?" Hermione asked, moving closer to Ron to place a hand on his shoulder. Whatever the injury had been, she was determined to stay by his side supportively. That was what marriage meant, after all, and what friendship was supposed to mean, too.

"He…well, he…"

"Flowers," Harry interjected. "It was flowers."

"Flowers?" Hermione repeated, nonplussed.

"Flowers everywhere," Ron confirmed, the tips of his ears burning a spectacular shade of red. "Even…"

"Even where the sun don't shine," Harry added, sniggering again. "A bit dense of the man, don't you think? How were the poor daisies ever supposed to survive?"

"How long have you been planning that one?" Ron asked, still glaring at his best mate. "If it had been you-"

"You'd be laughing even harder," Harry supplied, leaning against the back of one of the chairs to hold himself upright. "Think about it, mate."

"Hermione?" Ron sighed. His wife had been very quiet since Harry's revelation, and she was now looking at him contemplatively.

"You're in the hospital," she began slowly, "because, on an Auror mission, a criminal ringleader who works part-time as a children's entertainer planted flowers in your arse?"

There was a beat of silence, and then all three of them were laughing uncontrollably, so much so that they were escorted off the premises a few minutes later. Because really, friendship meant standing by each others' sides through it all, through the good times and the bad times, and through the times that were so utterly ridiculous there was nothing left to do but laugh.

**Anonymous asked: "Idea- hermione telling ron she's pregnant !funny!"**

The elation bubbling in her soul was practically enough to carry Hermione down the stairs on its own. It was as though she was walking on air, even when she found her husband and his brother-in-law huddled around the wireless in the living room, Firewhiskeys in hand as they shouted about whatever Quidditch teams were playing that day.

"Ron!" Hermione called, grinning so widely her cheeks might have hurt, if she could have been bothered to care about that sort of thing.

"Just a minute," Ron replied, holding up a hand and leaning closer to the wireless. "What'd they say about Polivsky?"

"Sounds like he's diving for something," Harry replied excitedly, mimicking Ron and leaning closer.

"Ron!" Hermione repeated. "Ron, I have something-"

"Is it a Snitch?" Ron's eyes widened. "He's got it? He's got the Snitch?"

After listening a minute longer, Harry hollered in affirmation and the men leapt to their feet, embracing and clapping each other on the back in a way that only happened when the Canons found a way to win.

"I knew trading for Polivsky was the way to go." Ron beamed at the wireless, like it had just brought him the greatest Christmas gift in the world . "Just you wait, mate, the cup is _ours_."

"Now, don't get too excited; they've still got the Harpies to deal with," Harry pointed out.

"I realize she's your wife and all, but Ginny doesn't even _play _for them anymore," Ron retorted, shaking his head in exasperation. "This is the best day of my life."

"Is it?" Hermione interrupted, tapping her foot rather impatiently. "Is _this_ the moment that makes it the best day of your life?"

"Other than marrying you, of course," Ron added out of habit, though he didn't turn from the wireless. "Can you believe this? Life couldn't possibly get any better!"

"Couldn't it, though?" Hermione interjected again, her voice ringing louder this time. "Is there _nothing _that could possibly make it better?"

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, finally turning to face hers. Harry backed slowly toward the fireplace, but his cleverly executed escape plan was foiled when he realized his friends were once again out of Floo powder. Hermione, however, was too annoyed with her husband to even mention her best friend's uncharacteristic cowardice.

"What do you _think _I'm on about?" she asked, her voice dangerously low. "Tread carefully, _dear_."

"Hermione, if you expect me to read your…_oh_." He trailed off, his eyes widening, hardly daring to believe it. "Wait, are we talking about the thing I think we're talking about?"

"Which thing do you think we're talking about?" Hermione asked, her expression softening slightly as she waited for him to finish connecting the dots.

"The thing we've _been_ talking about but that we haven't _finished_ talking about, but…" He walked toward her slowly, resting a hand on her stomach. "That thing?"

"That _thing_ is your child, Ron Weasley," Hermione replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"A baby?" Ron breathed incredulously. "Really?"

"Our baby," Hermione confirmed, and he kissed her fervently as soon as the words had left her mouth.

And as happy as Harry Potter was for his two best friends, he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of déjà vu as the two wrapped themselves even more securely in each other's embrace, oblivious to their surroundings. As he tiptoed out of the living room, retreating to the kitchen to give them a moment alone, he made a mental note to buy them some more Floo powder in congratulations.

**Anonymous asked: "Ron reading to Hermione when she's sick :))))"**

"I hate you."

"Love you too, sweetheart," Ron grumbled, dabbing a cool towel across her forehead as she wiped the sick from the corner of her mouth.

"Alright, I don't hate _you_," she admitted. "Just this vomiting business."

"Damn straight," Ron agreed, patting her shoulder gently. "I couldn't have known the morning sickness would be this bad, eh?"

"And I suppose getting pregnant was a combined effort," Hermione amended, leaning back against the bathroom wall and wiping frustrated tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Ron, but I think I'll have to skip the Harpies game today. You go on without me."

"Nah," Ron said valiantly, hiding his disappointment as best he could. "Isn't just exhibition, innit? There'll be better games. After all Ginny did for that club, we'll be getting in free for the next twenty years."

"I know you wanted to see Charlie," Hermione said doubtfully.

"He'll be at brunch tomorrow. I'll stay with you today," Ron offered, grasping her hand and helping her off the floor. "You alright to lie down for awhile now?"

"Thank you," Hermione said earnestly, leaning against him as he led her back into their bedroom. "I appreciate it, Ron, I do; it's the first Saturday you've had off all month…"

"So of course I want to spend it with my wife," he said smoothly, though they both knew he would have preferred it to be a day on which his wife could leave their bed, or at least participate in certain activities in it. "Why don't I read to you for a bit?" he offered. "Help you fall back asleep. You could use the rest."

"That'd be lovely," Hermione sighed, reaching up to draw his face toward hers, but thinking better of it at the last minute. He bent down anyway to kiss her forehead before wandering to the corner of their room and picking a book from the stack. Settling in next to Hermione and allowing her to rest her head in his lap, he opened the book and began to read:

"A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic…"

"Really, Ron?" Hermione interrupted, though her eyes remained closed and there was a grin upon her face. "Babbity Rabbity again?"

"It's a classic," he informed her, affronted. "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah…He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a Brigade of Witch-Hunters…"

By the time he had finished the story, Hermione was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily, a smile still playing at her lips.

It might not have been the Harpies, but all in all, Ron decided as he reached down to hold Hermione's hand and allowed his eyes to slide shut, it was everything Saturdays were meant to be.

**Anonymous asked: "Prompt idea: Ron and Hermione leaving baby Rose for the night for the first time. :D" **

"Are you sure you're okay watching Rose for the evening?" Hermione asked her mother for the sixth time in as many minutes.

"I don't think I'm the one that's anxious about it, dear," Mrs. Granger repeated kindly. "Go. She'll be fine. Your husband only turns twenty-six once."

"Yes, and it already happened," Hermione said, fussing with Rose's blanket again. "I gave you her nightly schedule, right?"

"Hermione." Mrs. Granger shooed her toward the door. "She'll be alright. Enjoy your evening with Ron. The two of you deserve it."

"Alright," Hermione agreed, leaning down to kiss her daughter's head. Rose cooed quietly, and Mrs. Granger readjusted her grip, smiling fondly at her granddaughter.

"There's a good girl."

"Which one of us?"

"Both. We'll see you in twelve hours," Mrs. Granger said, grinning as she gently nudged Hermione outside.

She hesitated another moment before moving toward the Apparition point. It was the first time they'd left Rose with someone else overnight, and as much as she trusted her mother, Hermione was almost too anxious to anticipate her first evening alone with Ron in nearly six months.

The house seemed empty without Rose. It was strange how much a tiny little person could change everything. Remembering her mother's reassurances, Hermione focused instead on the echo of her footsteps as she moved upstairs to change into the outfit she'd picked out as a birthday surprise for her husband.

It was eight o'clock when his supervisor finally let him off duty, and Ron couldn't get out of there fast enough. Partially because he knew his wife had been planning something for the evening, partially because he was so bloody exhausted from the week, but mostly because he wanted to hear from her own mouth that Rose had settled in alright with her parents. After coming home to the cries of his precious daughter every night for nearly half a year, Ron wasn't sure if he was quite ready to be without her for a full evening.

But when he finally Flooed into their living room, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight that greeted him.

Hermione, dressed in a silky contraption that Ron supposed was meant to be a nightgown, was sprawled comfortably in one of their squashy armchairs, fast asleep with a glass of wine tipping precariously in her hand. He guessed she might have been going for sexy with her outfit, but given her position she wound up looking more adorable than anything.

Ron crossed the room swiftly and took the glass from her, setting it safely on the coffee table. She stirred feebly, blinking several times before recognizing where she was.

"Ready for our night?" she yawned, stretching half-heartedly before sliding her eyes shut again. "Rose is with Mum, she seemed happy when I left."

"Shall we nap first?" Ron suggested, gathering her up in his arms only to move to the sofa. She settled into his lap comfortably, and he held her to his chest as he propped his legs up on the table.

"Nap's good," Hermione said sleepily. "Then we'll get up and have _lots_ of sex."

"Lots," Ron agreed with a yawn, aiming his wand at the living room clock and casting a charm so that it would wake them up in six hours' time. "Then we'll go get Rosie first thing in the morning, yeah?"

"Not a second later," Hermione confirmed, nuzzling further into him. "Sorry we aren't fun anymore."

"Eh. I still like us."

"Mmm. Love you."

"Love you, too," Ron replied, allowing his eyes to slide shut. There would be time to reconnect physically with his wife later in the evening, and time to spend with his daughter the day after - for now, he decided, a cuddle with one of the two most important people in the world was more than enough.

**"Drabble where Hermione tells Ron she's pregnant please! Thank you :)" **

"Hermione, I'm home!" Ron called, stripping various articles of outerwear as he climbed his way up the stairs to their bedroom. "Rose is safely with my parents, not a fuss at all, and they're happy to keep her til Sunday."

He stopped at the top of the stairs to remove his shoes and throw them back down to the landing. He flicked his wand toward them in midair, so that they wouldn't make a sound when they hit the floor.

"Hermione?" he called again, throwing his robes in a heap at the end of the hallway and unbuttoning his work shirt as he went. He found her in the middle of their bedroom, beaming widely at him as he crossed the room toward her, his shirt wide open and his fly undone.

"Didn't want to waste a second, did you?" she teased, joy positively radiating in her tone.

"We've got a baby to make, haven't we?" he pointed out, tapping his watch. "And only thirty-six hours to work with. That's only eight, maybe nine attempts, and that's if we draw it out."

"It might be too late." She opened her right hand to reveal what Ron recognized as a muggle pregnancy test. "I wanted to wait until you got home to do the spell."

"Here I am," he said immediately, closing his dumbstruck jaw and sitting on the edge of their bed. "So?"

Hermione drew her wand and muttered the incantation. They held their collective breath, and then, miraculously, her belly began to glow a promising shade of gold.

"See?" she said breathlessly. "It's already done."

But Ron had already leapt from the bed and gathered her in his arms, laughing jubilantly and wondering how in the world he'd got so lucky.

"Love you," he murmured against her neck.

"You, too," she replied, squeezing his torso gently. "And Ron, about those eight or nine attempts…"

"Still worth it?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely." And with that, she brought her lips to meet his. After all, they had thirty-six hours to celebrate.

**rantingmammal asked: "Hey could you give me a few fanfics about Romione and Hinny trying to get pregnant. What they are like during the pregnancies. I love those fics. Much love! (Also random but do you ship Scorose?)" - (For the record, I, wazlib88, am neutral on Scorpius/Rose! Can be cute when done well!)**

"I don't think I've stopped smiling since Thursday," Harry remarked to Ginny as they made their way to Ron and Hermione's house on Saturday evening. Molly and Arthur had volunteered to take James, Albus, and Rose to allow their parents an evening of socialization. And, of course, Harry and Ginny were eager to take the opportunity to let their closest friends in on their big news before they announced it at the Burrow the next afternoon.

"Round three already, and the excitement is still there," Ginny quipped. "How lucky I am to have such a caring husband."

"Round three, and the first trimester sarcasm _still_ hasn't gotten old," Harry said.

"Better than vomit," Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah, well, a lot of things are better than vomit," Harry retorted. "Warts are better than vomit. Any number of poisons, even, as long as there's a bezoar around."

"Which might lead you to vomit, anyway," Ginny finished as they reached the door. "Shall we barge in or knock?"

"Barge in, but make a lot of noise about it," Harry suggested knowingly.

His intuition proved correct when, a moment after his and Ginny's loud entrance, Ron and Hermione bustled toward them, straightening their clothing as they went. Harry shared a knowing look with Ginny, who appeared to be torn between making a comment about the Weasleys' obviously swollen lips and pretending she'd noticed nothing.

"Sorry, we must not have heard your knock!" Hermione said in a rather loud, high voice. "We were just…discussing something important."

"We didn't knock," Ginny informed her bluntly.

"Oh, but…"

"Give it a rest, Hermione, they know what we were doing," Ron said, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Shall we tell them why?"

"I think I've got a good enough idea already, thanks," Harry remarked, shuddering slightly.

"No kidding," Ginny agreed.

"That's not what he meant," Hermione said, stepping lightly on her husband's foot in reprimand. "But we've got some news, and we wanted to tell you first-"

"Hermione's pregnant again!" Ron cut in giddily, a grin sweeping across his face.

"So you thought you'd get right to recreating the act, did you?" Ginny remarked as Harry offered his congratulations.

"That's none of your business," Hermione replied, blushing crimson. "I'd think you'd be a _bit _more excited-"

"Ginny's pregnant, too!" Harry interrupted excitedly. "So the attitude, y'know, she can't help it-"

"Ah, sorry 'bout that, mate," Ron winced. "I don't get that til late in the second trimester; she's on the _good_ side of it all right now, if you know what I mean-"

"Ron!"

"Ouch, love-"

"Wait a minute," Ginny said, holding up a hand and pinching the bridge of her nose. "When are you due, Hermione?"

"May," she replied. "You?"

"June." A grin finally spread across Ginny's face. "Oh, this is wonderful, isn't it?"

"Absolutely!" Within minutes, the women were embracing each other as happy tears rolled down their faces. Their husbands may have been scared, if they hadn't already experienced this before.

"We're in for an exciting few months, aren't we?" Harry remarked.

"Have we ever had any other kind?" Ron retorted. Laughing jovially, the foursome retreated to the kitchen for dinner, ready to start the next chapter in their lives.

**Anonymous asked: "I can't believe you haven't been asked for this prompt yet ... Weasley Family (grandkids of course !) and Easter Sunday :)"**

"And they're off," Harry declared, sighing heavily as he dropped into a chair next to Ron. Thirteen children between the ages of six and and sixteen were running wildly through the yard in front of them, pausing every so often to check beneath a stone or under a tree.

"And they damn well better enjoy it," Ron added. "Only took us an hour to hide the eggs."

"It was your wife's idea," Harry reminded him. "But eh, as long as the kids are smiling, right?"

"Yeah, Teddy and Victoire look thrilled," Ron observed, chortling as the two teenagers were dragged across the garden by Victoire's little brother, Louis, and their cousin, Lucy.

"Oh, it's all for show," Harry replied knowingly. "Teddy loves it, even the crazy bits."

"Ah, well, those are the best parts. OI, Rose!" Ron pointed firmly in his daughter's direction, though he didn't rise from his seat. "Leave your cousin alone, there are eggs for everyone!"

Rose begrudgingly stopped tickling Roxanne, who promptly snatched the egg in question and scurried off toward her brother, Fred, who was carrying both of their baskets containing what seemed to be almost half the eggs that had been hidden.

"Or not, then," Ron muttered under his breath. "Had to know that's what'd happen when George and Ange procreated."

"As if you're one to talk," Harry countered, grinning amusedly as he watched Hugo scoop an egg from right under Lily and Molly's noses. "Yours terrify me, what with Hermione's cleverness and your…well, you."

Ron shot him a look that clearly said he'd have socked him on the arm if he could be bothered to exert the energy, and Harry just laughed in reply. So many years of friendship bred a sort of understanding they didn't need words to define.

"Are you boys having a moment?" Ginny smirked as she and Hermione joined their husbands outside.

"Molly's sent us to collect the children," Hermione explained, leaning down to kiss Ron on the side of the mouth.

"And let me guess, that includes us?" Ron grinned at his wife, who merely shrugged.

"How's the egg hunt going?" Ginny asked, leaning down to drape her arms across Harry's shoulders from behind his chair.

"Fairly well, I reckon. Thought James and Al were going to try teasing Dominique for awhile, but she threatened to tackle Al for an egg and they backed off," Harry explained. "I think that bird over there might have been a product of her accidental magic, too."

"Oh, where have I seen that one before?" Ron joked, waving his scarred hand toward Hermione, who rolled her eyes and took it gently. All had been forgiven more than a decade previously, but neither could resist the occasional good-natured jibe when the situation arose.

"It's good for James and Al to be put in their place now and again," Ginny remarked thoughtfully. "The bird didn't peck, did it?"

"Nah, the magic wasn't that advanced," Harry chuckled. "She just gave them a right scare."

"Can we hire her on when they're giving Lily a hard time?" Ginny joked.

The foursome laughed again as they watched the children run around the yard another minute, taking in yet another strangely peaceful moment in lives that had, for a time, been anything but. It was interrupted only by the rumbling of Ron's stomach.

"Shall we eat?" Hermione asked, smiling at her husband as Harry and Ginny stood up to collect the children, all of whom seemed to have gotten enough energy out of their systems to sit and eat in at least a passable version of civility.

"Happy Easter, my darling husband," Hermione said, tugging on Ron's hand to help him out of his chair.

And then he wrapped his arms around her, smiling into her hair as he murmured, "Happy Easter, love."

**Anonymous asked: "You are taking drabble requests ? :D Awesome ! Could you just write one with Rose and Hugo as well ? I miss PoE, and I would love that :)"**

"You know their anniversary was more than a week ago, right?" Hugo grumbled, reluctantly taking one of the breakfast trays from his sister.

"Well, you were the one that didn't want to sneak out of school for the party the day of," Rose replied reasonably, "so this is what we're left with."

"You didn't have permission," Hugo reminded her, sighing.

"It was _implied_," Rose retorted. "He said Mum and Dad broke the rules with Uncle Harry loads of times."

"Weren't they trying to save the bloody wizarding world or something?" Hugo pointed out, but Rose wasn't listening anymore. She bolted up the stairs with a spring in her step, leaving Hugo to trail after her begrudgingly.

"Don't just barge in there!" Hugo warned when Rose came to a stop outside their parents' bedroom door.

"Oh, relax. If they're awake, they'll have heard us moving about by now." She knocked anyway. One could never be too safe when it came to waking up Ron and Hermione Weasley.

The tired groan that came from the other side of the door told the children the coast was clear. "Happy anniversary!" Rose sang as she opened the door.

The sight that greeted them was almost pathetic. Hermione was sat up on her elbow, one eye half open, the other squeezed shut, her hair flying every which way. Ron, on the other hand, was lying on his stomach, a pillow over his head. A dignified look indeed for a witch and wizard of forty.

"Ron," Hermione yawned, nudging her husband's arm gently. "Ron, they brought food."

"S'it edible?" he asked dubiously, though he rolled onto his back and let the pillow drop. "Anniversary, you said?"

"I _told _her it was a week ago," Hugo defended as he brought his tray to Hermione.

"It's your seventeenth!" Rose protested, dropping her tray in Ron's lap and hugging him. "If your marriage was a person," she explained when she released him, "it could legally do magic!"

"We've been making magic for awhile now, haven't we love?" Ron cheeked, earning a half-hearted glare from Hermione and identically disgusted expressions from his children.

"Thank you, darlings," Hermione said, tucking into her breakfast. "This was so sweet of you."

"And it _is_ edible," Ron declared, taking a large bite of bacon. "Thank you, Rosie, Hugh. Knew having you home for the summer would be worth it."

Hermione looked like she was going to scold him again, but when Rose and Hugo laughed and sat at the foot of their bed, she relaxed and cuddled into her husband's side as they ate.

"So have you got any advice for us?" Rose asked teasingly. "Seventeen years, you ought to have some wisdom to share."

"Just don't make it gross," Hugo added, much to Ron's amusement.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said, looking to Ron for help. "I suppose it all comes down to love, doesn't it?"

"It always comes down to love," Ron agreed sagely.

"That's not particularly helpful," Rose pointed out.

"Well, it's a hard thing to understand," Ron replied, turning to kiss Hermione chastely on the lips. "Until you meet the right person, that is."

"I trust your judgment," Hugo said, eager to end the conversation there. "Can I have some bacon?"

And though they might have been too young to understand the complicated but wonderful entity that was a happy marriage, as they sat there eating breakfast in bed with their parents that Saturday morning, there was no doubt that Rose and Hugo understood _love_. They had experienced it in many forms every day of their lives.

In the end, it was every good thing and every bad thing, every smile and every tear, every second and every day. It was bigger than any of the words they could have used to describe it, but it was always there. Love never failed.

**d19romfis asked: "I have request too, about Drabble romione. Well, "hugo dating girl but hermione opinion like slut, hermione want rom cut it off them relationship,but ron's time to pay back, like hermione to approve rose-scorpious, so ron want hermione approve hugo relationship even like "slut" ( mione opinion) " :)" (This one is a little off of POE-canon, but here it is!)**

"I just don't think she's right for him, that's all," Hermione said for the twentieth time that evening. Ron just raised an eyebrow as he climbed into bed next to her. "Well, she's bound to break his heart," she continued defensively. "You know she will."

"I don't know that, actually," Ron replied loftily, his voice almost a perfect imitation of his wife's. "All I know is that she was quite respectful and kind at dinner tonight."

"This is Hugo's first girlfriend," Hermione argued. "And he's _far_ from her first boyfriend."

"S'not like you to be so judgmental," Ron remarked, settling under the duvet and closing his eyes in a move he knew would annoy her.

"Like you're one to talk," she grumbled, poking him rather sharply in the arm. "We didn't hear the end of it for _months _when Rose started going out with Scorpius."

"Oi, can you blame me?" Ron retorted, grabbing her finger and tugging on it affectionately. "I needed to make sure he was different than his father."

"And _I _need to make sure this girl isn't going to drop Hugo the minute she gets bored," Hermione reasoned.

Ron sighed heavily. "Hermione, love."

"Terms of endearment aren't going to make me change my mind."

"She seems very nice," Ron repeated. "You saw the way they were looking at each other over dinner. Let them be, okay? The poor girl just met her boyfriend's parents for the first time; she doesn't need his mum giving her dirty looks over _rumors_ you heard from Rose, of all people."

Hermione slid down under the covers next to him. When he flickered his eyes open, he saw that she was biting her lip contemplatively, a gesture that had never failed to drive him a bit mad with want for her. But before he could act on it, she needed to say whatever it was she was thinking.

"I'm not trying to judge her," Hermione said in a small voice. "I know it's not fair of me. I just don't want to see Hugo get hurt."

"He's not a little boy anymore," Ron reminded her gently, reaching over to brush some of her curls out of her face. "Same way Rose isn't a little girl anymore. We can't micromanage them. All we can do is love them."

"Sounds like something I'd say," Hermione murmured.

"It was," Ron laughed. "About a year and a half ago, if you'll recall."

"It's easier said than acted upon," Hermione observed, snuggling into her husband's side.

"Hugo's a smart kid," Ron said. "Same as Rosie. They had to be, with you as their mum. Trust them, yeah? It's not like we didn't make a mistake or two when we were their age."

"Fair enough," Hermione admitted, sliding her hand across his chest. "When did you get so wise?"

"'Round the time I married you, I reckon," Ron replied, bringing his lips to meet hers. They weren't perfect, they had never been, but when they had each other to lean on - well, it was about as close as it could get.

**Anonymous asked: "Can I ask two different drabbles ? I've got two prompts. The first is a moment from Ron and Hermione's Honeymoon *smirk* (not necessarely smutty). The second is the birth of either one of their children or, why not, a grandchild. Thank you in advance."**

"Are you sure we can't go back there?" Ron asked anxiously, his eyes fixed on the door just a few feet away from them.

"You already got yourself kicked out once," Hermione reminded him. "Have some patience, dear."

"Says the woman tapping her foot a mile a minute," Ron observed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she didn't still the movement of her foot. "Remember our honeymoon?" she interjected, changing the topic abruptly.

"Vaguely," Ron quipped. "It's only been, what, thirty years now?"

"Next year will be thirty," Hermione reminded him kindly, reaching over to grip his hand with hers. Even decades later, they still experienced the nearly impossible juxtaposition of comfort and excitement that came with skin-to-skin contact. "Do you remember the second night?"

Ron smirked. "You'll have to be more specific, love."

"The romantic night," Hermione clarified. "You know, with the walking tour of the city, and the ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne when we got back…"

"Oh yeah," Ron grinned, squeezing her hand meaningfully. "Pretty good night, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't bad," Hermione allowed, grinning back cheekily, "but I was just thinking about the talk we had after."

"The one with all the feelings?" Ron teased, though his affection for her was clear in his expression. "Yeah, s'pose that part was alright, too. What about it?"

"We talked through our lives together, didn't we? What it would feel like to have babies," Hermione recalled, "and to watch those babies have babies. Well, this is it."

Ron was silent for a moment, the unexpected enormity of her statement catching him by surprise. He might have understood the significance before, but to hear it phrased in the way she had done…

"Indeed it is," he said at last, squeezing his wife's hand again. "So you mean we ought to enjoy it, yeah?"

"That we must," Hermione replied. "Our baby girl is having a baby of her own. This ought to be one of our finest moments."

Ron did his best to pretend there weren't tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but when Hermione squeezed his hand again he was reminded, not for the first time even that very day, that the woman next to him had been there for the highs and the lows, for the good and the bad, for every moment, both the big and the small, because each one was equally important as long as they were together. Perhaps they each had a few more gray hairs now than on the day they'd said their vows, but the promise had remained unchanged and unbroken no matter how much time had passed.

So, as he let the emotion of the day and of the years leading up to it wash over him, Ron remarked, "S'pose we've made it, haven't we?"

"After thirty years?" Hermione's eyes twinkled, shining even in the poor excuse for lighting in the hallway of the hospital. "Oh, no, darling, I intend to get another fifty out of you yet."

However chaste the kiss that followed may have been compared to the many they had shared over the years, the couple still couldn't help but blush when they were interrupted by the Healer that had been assigned to see Rose through the delivery.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Healer Andrews said politely, "but I have some news to share."

"Well, go on," Ron prompted, embarrassment forgotten, his foot drumming against the floor just as rapidly as Hermione's had.

The Healer's smile grew nearly as wide as their own as she said, "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, would you like to come and meet your granddaughter?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this collection of slightly related drabbles. This is actually the 30th story I've posted on , which is crazy! Thank you for sticking with me for the last year and a half or so. There should be more Romione coming from me shortly. :)


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